


without joy, I left without recourse

by steelythen



Category: The Hunger - Alma Katsu
Genre: Budding feelings, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Missing Scene, Self-Hatred, idk man i’m probably missing something but I hate tags so, james has never wanted to hold a hand so badly, james reed has a crisis, sad lonely boys try to fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelythen/pseuds/steelythen
Summary: James Reed and Charles Stanton are left with a moment alone together.
Relationships: James Reed/Charles Stanton
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	without joy, I left without recourse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookofleviathan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookofleviathan/gifts).



> what if those two nice boys in the Donnor Party had some romantic tension? An Exploration, by me.
> 
> work title comes from Earthly Bodies by J. Tillman
> 
> (also this work is for ciarán, thanks for inadvertently breaking my heart by recommending this story, lov u)

“Why must you do that?”

Reed frowned at him, confused. “Do what?”

He had been riding with Stanton for hours now, the repetitive motion of the saddle backing his back ache and his legs swing uselessly on either side of the horse beneath him. He had only just punctured the silence between them to make an insistent question as to which direction they might head in order to reach Hastings faster, when Stanton had brought his horse to a stand still next to him. Reed had half a mind to chastise him for wasting time, when he spoke again.

 _“That,”_ Stanton said with far more emphasis this time. “Hold others at arm’s length, make it difficult for them to care about you. Bully them to make yourself seem superior in comparison. I just... I don’t understand why you do it.”

“I...” Reed felt his mouth go dry. Stanton looked at him, waiting for an answer, yet he had none. His mouth hung open, yet only air fell out.

Stanton sighed. “I think you’re a far more likable man than you know, Mister Reed. You ought to let someone see that, before it comes too late and you have no one to turn to.”

“James.”

Now Stanton was the one to turn to him, confused. “Sorry?”

Reed worried at the handkerchief hanging out of his front pocket. He never should have opened his mouth, but it was too late now. “...You could call me James,” he said slowly. “I don’t see any reason why not to, seeing how we’re the only men around for miles.”

This earned him a small smile from Stanton. “Alright,” he said, “if that’s what you want.” He paused before adding a softly spoken, “James.” His heart stopped to hear his name, his Christian name, spoken from Stanton’s lips. This was a terrible mistake, he never should have suggested it. “Are you alright?” Reed didn’t dare look at him, afraid to look at the face behind the voice choked with worry.

“I-I’m fine,” he replied, cursing how his voice shook. He tried to steady himself. “I... I only felt a bit lightheaded for a moment there.”

“Are you sure? We could take a moment to rest–“

“No.”

Reed couldn’t bear to think of what might happen if he had to stay with him for any moment longer. Already his dark thoughts crowded around him like grey clouds just before a storm. He feared what might happen if the storm were to break. He cleared his throat. “That shouldn’t be necessary, Mister Stanton,” he said in as steady a voice as he could muster. “The sooner we find Hastings the better.”

A sudden burst of laughter came from his companion and Reed glanced up at him in confusion. He soon regretted it, however, for he was wildly unprepared for the bright flush across his face, the way the sun caressed his soft features, how his dark hair shook in the breeze. “What, you ask me to call you ‘James,’ yet you call me by my surname in the next breath?” he asked, his eyes still shining with amusement. His eyes were dizzying to look at. “Honestly, James... you’re one of the strangest men I’ve ever met.”

Reed felt his face grow red. He wasn’t used to being teased like this, in friendly jest instead of outright scorn. It made him feel weightless and slightly warm... And that seemed worse than anything. “I didn’t know your name,” he admitted finally. His voice sounded quiet, even to him.

Stanton smiled at him and he wished he would stop. He didn’t deserve such a smile. “It’s Charles. Charles Stanton.”

“Charles...” The word fell unbidden from his lips. He liked the way it sounded, like spring water traveling along stones in a brook... And he prayed that Stanton couldn’t see that. “We should go,” he said, careful to add some hardness to the edges of his voice. “We’re losing daylight.”

Stanton sighed next to him. “Alright, lead the way then.”

They rode for several hours after that, before coming to a small clearing to make their camp. As Stanton stoked the fire and set up camp, Reed had managed to snag a small rabbit for their dinner, and even found a small spring full of water for them and the horses... And he managed to impress Stanton in the process. As their rabbit cooked, they found themselves making conversation with each other. It was a bit stilted at first, without the distraction of navigating their way around the narrow paths surrounding them, but pleasant. Reed enjoyed hearing tales of Stanton’s youth in Illinois – tinged in melancholy as it was – and he even found himself talking about his own childhood in Ireland, before emigrating to the very same place. He found it strange they never crossed paths with each other before their wagon party. He wondered if they might have been friends if they had.

Yet, as the rabbit grew black with charcoal and they began to eat, they fell into a beat of silence. For some unknown reason, the silence between them gnawed at Reed. It was as if he felt that the only man who had shown him an ounce of kindness was slipping away from him. As he reached the end of bone on his share of rabbit, he struggled to think of something to say, something that could keep the glow of conversation alive, when Stanton beat him to it.

“I don’t think Snyder should treat you the way he does.”

Reed felt his blood run cold. A thousand contradictory thoughts ran rampant through his mind and he threw a hurried glance at Stanton, trying to figure out just how much he knew. Yet Stanton’s gaze was cast downward, the orange glow of the fire casting his face in large shadow.

“Or Keserberg,” he quietly continued. “Or, Eddy. Hell, I don’t think anyone in our party treats you like they should.” Stanton finally looked up at him, and it seemed to Reed that he could see an entire forest fire flickering in those eyes. He wondered if he might burn if he got too close to them. “You’re a good man, James,” Stanton softly spoke, transfixing Reed with those eyes of his. “I just wish the others could see you like I do.”

Reed prided himself on how he kept his emotions locked close to his chest, yet now, as he stared into Stanton’s melancholic eyes, they threatened to spill out of him in one messy rush. He glanced away, choosing instead to look at his hands. The thin layer of grime on them cracked as he flexed his fingers. He swallowed. Slowly, deliberately, feeling a lump of emotion bobbing in time to the motion in the back of his throat. “Thank you,” he said finally. He did not dare speak above a whisper. “You do not know what that means to hear.”

He inadvertently flinched as Stanton reached his hand toward him – another one of Synder’s affects on him, it seemed. Yet Stanton’s grip on his wrist was gentle, soft even. Softer still was the look in his eye as Reed turned back to look at him... like he, too, was in need of comfort.  
Stanton smiled at him. It was a weak, coarse smile, tempered by months of misfortune and worry, yet Reed let himself be taken in by it. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to be feeling, but his heart seemed to hang large in his chest as he felt those eyes on him. “You needn’t thank me, James. I’m only saying the truth.”

As he spoke, a dark curl fell across his eye and he, feeling suddenly bold, brushed it away with the base of his thumb. Stanton looked at him, surprised, and he held his breath. Waiting for the moment where Stanton pulled his hand away and shoved at him, calling him any number of things. Things he deserved to be called. Things he probably called himself on more than one occasion.

Yet that moment never came. 

Stanton only looked at him, his eyes darting across his face, his mouth slightly agape. Reed made a quiet note to stop staring at his mouth. Reed froze, his hand stuck on Stanton’s cheek. He hadn’t dared to get this far, hadn’t dared to hope. He’d seen the way he looked at Tamsen Donner, and at Mary Graves. He hadn’t thought he’d be spared a look like that too.

“Charles, I...”

Stanton looked at him expectantly, almost eager for what he had to say, yet no words came. He didn’t know how to ask him the questions swirling within him. He didn’t know how to ask if he too felt the aching loneliness clutched around his heart, if that loneliness caused him to seek refuge in the arms of those who made that ache all the more unbearable. If that loneliness had caused him to sin, like he had. 

“Yes?”

It was only now that Reed noticed that he had been slowly leaning in towards Stanton. Their faces were only a breath apart, and the flames flickered in Stanton’s dark, lonely eyes. It would be so easy to close the distance between them...

He managed to stop himself before it was too late. He pulled away from Stanton, holding his wrist close to him as if Stanton had branded it. And, as he glanced at the soft indent where his fingers had laid around it, a part of him felt as though he had.

“James, are you–“

“Fine!” Reed yelped, his voice far higher than it ought to be. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m fine, I... I think we ought to rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Stanton looked at him, hurt and confused. It hurt to see him like that. “Are you sure that’s all?” he asked. “I don’t mind taking care of you–“

“You’ve done more than enough.” He hadn’t meant to make it sound like an accusation, yet the forceful words had spilled out of him faster than he could stop them. He stared at the rocky ground. He’d been bewitched by more than a few pairs of eyes, he couldn’t let himself be bewitched again.

Yet... 

Reed spared one last glance to Stanton. Hoping to savor that orange flicker in his eyes one final time. It was more than he deserved, but he let himself have it anyway. “Thank you, Charles,” he spoke softly. “For talking with me, and for listening to me. You’re a true friend. I... I’ll see you in the morning.”

Before Stanton could reply, he turned on his heels and laid down on his mat on the far side of their camp. As he stared up into large expanse of stars above them, he gripped his wrist all the tighter and made an impossible promise to himself.

There would be time for questions later.


End file.
